


Sugar

by Sweetgrrl



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: CountryTom!, DomTom!, F/M, Makeup Sex, Rough Sex, Shibari, but we know who wears the pants in that family, southern belle meets rodeo star
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetgrrl/pseuds/Sweetgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom pisses his sweet southern belle off, but of course, they always make up.</p><p>(Not beta'd, sorry for any typos etc)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar

His eyes narrowed as she flounced out his truck. They had been bickering all morning, and he was about sick and tired of it. He really couldn’t give a rats ass if they did things different in Dallas, she was out in the big country now, and big city livin’ was a thing of the past. He weren’t no gentleman, and she was just gonna hafta get used to it. She put her phone up to her ear, and he could hear her whinin’ to her momma about how this livin’ with chickens in the yard and horse shit on his boots was driving her insane. He rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth as she walked away, then tilted his head as her sundress caught the breeze and flashed him. 

She was wearing her white cotton panties. Goddammit. Those fuckers were like kryptonite, once she got to wigglin’ and rubbin’ up against him…he adjusted himself as his button-fly jeans got a little snugger. He kept his eyes on her as she walked up the porch to their house, and sucked on his lower lip in consideration. He’d give her one more chance. Then she would just have to learn, if ya mess with the bull, yer gonna get the horns. 

***two hours later***

He stretched his arms above his head, his chest glistening in the late afternoon sun. He had done good work today, got a lot done, and was lookin’ forward to some sweet tea, and maybe a sweet kiss or two. He remembered their spat from this morning, and his resolution, and decided to take a backup plan with him into the house. Just in case, ya know. 

As he knocked off the muck from hit boots, he almost hoped she wasn’t over her mad yet. She was a pistol for sure, and makeup sex with her was never a quiet loving affair. He had been a proper ass, but that was his job, wadnt it? To piss off his girl, and then make it up to her with a good fucking?

He made sure to whistle cheerily as he stomped up the stairs to the back door. As he opened the door to the kitchen, he was met with a glare and a sniff. She still wouldn’t talk to him, but he knew exactly how to change that. He stalked her playfully, coming up behind her and rubbing his dirty hands all over her pretty new sundress.

“God Dammit Tom!” she shrieked. “my new dress, you fucker!”

He laughed, and he knew it would only make her madder. He couldn’t wait.

“So, you’re gonna come home at 3 in the morning, shit-faced drunk, after not calling me or texting me, or anything, singing “Hey Good Lookin’” like you think you gonna get laid? And then get pissed at me for makin’ you sleep on the couch?” 

Her usually cultured southern belle voice started dropping consonants as she wound up. ”And now you gonna mess up my favorite dress? For fucks sake, Tom, what’re you playin at?”

He didn’t let her go, he just pulled her up hard against his chest, and rubbed his hardness into the soft yielding flesh of her ass. She caught her breath, as she looked at him over her shoulder. His eyes glittered, his eyebrow jumped, just for a second. He always knew how to push her buttons, and goddamn, she loved it. Her chin tipped up as she accepted the challenge in his eyes. 

She dropped her eyes, and, as if on accident, rubbed her bottom across his tightening jeans as she pulled away from him. Two could play at this game and she was well aware of his little weak spots just as much as he knew hers. 

She calmed her voice down, putting that sicky sweet drawl every good southern girl has perfected, into her every word. “And now, you gotta fuck up my favorite dress…You think that’s gonna get you laid, cowboy? You think Im even gonna let you sniff my sugar? Hmm?” And she drew that dirty dress up over her head, and turned around to face him. 

As usual, she had foregone a bra, not needing one around the house, and that left her with her every day, plain ole’ white panties. She jokingly called them her granny panties, but she did insist on at least French cut, if they weren’t thongs. She did have some standards. Her bare feet meant she was almost tiny next to his 6’2” frame, and no one ever told her she was little…still, he had a good 7 inches on her, and probably a good 50 lbs as well. 

She tossed that dress at him, and said, sweetly, “This’ll be watchu can sniff, asshole.” 

And with that inimitable sass southern belles had, she sashayed away from him. As soon as she turned the corner into the hallway, she had to put her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggle. Paybacks a bitch, Tommy-boy!

He stood in the kitchen, almost painfully aroused, her sundress clutched in one hand. The smile he had fought to hide finally showed up, and he quickly shucked out of his dirty jeans, and still mucky boots. He would pay for that later, he knew. Muddy boots were one of the few things she really was pissy about. He couldn’t complain, his buddies wives were shit housekeepers, so they were always here at his place, and if she was sweet enough to welcome that raucous bunch, she was allowed some bitchin’.

Completely naked now, he looked down at his erection and grinned. Stepping back to the door, he reached out and grabbed his ‘backup plan’ from the patio furniture. Scratching his scruff, he went through the opposite door that she had gone through, and jumped into the guest shower. Five minutes later, his dirty blonde curls still dripping water and a clean pair of jeans slung low on his hips, he went looking for his girl.

He found her in what they jokingly called the “Rec Room”, because she wouldn’t hear of a mancave. She was wearing her old bathrobe, and was curled up in the corner of the ratty old couch he wouldn’t let her throw away, watching tv. True to form, she completely ignored him, until he walked over and stood directly in front of her, his buttonfly (half undone) at eye level.

She rolled her eyes at him, and looked up at him, as if she was bored, then she shifted her body, and her eyes changed, as she stroked his thigh with one fingertip. Pouting a little, she said “oh, poor Tommy-boy…did I teeeeaaase you?”

He gritted his teeth. She was playing with fire, he hated that damned nickname, and she was the only one who ever had the balls to call him that. Not even his best friend from his old rodeo days dared to do that. 

He brought his hand out from behind his back, and watched her eyes widen as she took in the coils of the rope he had brought in. She took in a breath and whispered “you wouldn’t dare!” and as soon as she said she knew she had lost. Lost the game, lost her heart, it was a foregone conclusion. She was his, and he knew it. Before she could fight against that knowledge, he fisted his hand in her hair, gently pulling her up to standing. 

His voice was gravelly, and strained. “Keep teasin’, sugar. Rope isn’t just for work.”  
She heard the warning, and the plea, and her knees weakened as she felt herself get wet. Her whimper was completely involuntary, and it made his cock twitch with anticipation.

His humor and playfulness ebbed away, as he felt his dark side come out to play. As he loosened his grip in her hair, he said softly, “stay put, sugar”. She briefly considered running, but changed her mind when he didn’t move from his spot right in front of her. Instead, he took off her bathrobe, leaving the panties on. Then he looped the rope around her bare chest, quickly weaving an inescapable design. His former rodeo talent showed in the speed with which he bound her, and the dexterity of his knots, as well as the unparalleled skill at immobilizing her without impeding her breathing in any way. Her arms folded at the small of her back arched her breast out to him, and, conveniently, kept her from pushing him away as he nuzzled her neck. 

“I know I drive you crazy, sugar, and I’m sorry, but that’s what you got when you married me…now, just simmer down nah, and let me make it up to you, hm?”

She smiled at him, but he knew his little pistol wasn’t quite done yet. He lowered his head to kiss her, and jerked back with a curse as she bit his lip. He chuckled “oh, it’s on now, little girl….” And he shimmied her down the hallway into their bedroom. He moved her so fast, she had to completely trust the security of the rope harness, and she was shocked at the speed such a big guy to muster.

Once in their bedroom, he bent her over the footboard of the bed. He used his knee to nudge her thighs apart, and groaned as his fingertips ran over the seam of her panties, damp and fragrant. She was balanced on his thick thigh, as his broad hands spanned her ass, framing it, squeezing it, giving in to his white-panty kink. She rolled her body as best she could, and the pressure on her clit made her moan. 

She lifted her shoulders and tried to turn her head to look at him, but she was pressed to the bed almost carelessly as he slipped on finger under her panties, groaning as he felt her wetness. He couldn’t resist, and he slid that finger all the way in and flexed, loving how she cried out for him. Loving how she couldn’t do anything to stop him, or encourage him. She had to take what he gave – or didn’t give, he thought, evilly.

Another finger, and she whined, then whined even more as he pulled out and slid his two fingers to either side of her clit. Teasing her, but not quite where she wanted…  
He kept that up until her moans were loud and unhinged, until she finally begged him “Please Tom, for the love of God, please!”

Then he stopped. She complained loudly, and then went silent as she heard his buckknife slide out of its sheath. One, two, careful swipes, and her panties were shreds on the floor.

In the silence, she heard the soft movements of him unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling his cock out, he rested it on the crack of her ass.

“You want this, sugar?”

“You know I do, Tom…please…”

“You ever gonna try to deny me after you tease me again?”

“No, Tom, no, I promise, never…”

He slid himself up and down her heat, his cock slick with her juices now, and he bent over her, covering her with his body as he positioned the head of his cock at her opening. He whispered in her ear “Was this the sugar you were saying I couldn’t even sniff, babygirl?”

She whispered back, not wanting to admit it “yes Tom.”

“Are you going to beg me now?”

“Yes Tom, please, oh god, please fuck me…I need you inside me right now, I cant, I cant….please!”

He straightened up, and grasped the knot between her shoulder blades, and yanked her onto him, giving her no time to adjust to his size. He knew that first thrust, with her unprepared for it, was her favorite feeling, and he used it to his advantage. Her own body weight and the strength of his arm drove his cock deep into her, as her only points of support were his thighs, his cock, and his rope harness. 

The helplessness of it pushed her into an almost immediate orgasm, and she screamed in pleasure as he rutted through it. His grunts were animalistic as he pounded into her, wanting this to be fast and dirty. Lovemaking could come later, and he intended to tease her mercilessly, still bound, but for now, he needed this.  
He gritted his teeth, and growled. “Come again, sugar, let me feel you come again, come on, come on…” and she obeyed, shuddering as he joined her, shouting and roaring his release. 

Gently he lowered her back to the bed, squeezing her hands to make sure they were still warm and good. She said faintly “I’m okay, they’re okay Tom…oh my god….”  
He rolled her over, as aftershocks pulsed through her. 

“Good” he said, nibbling her neck,” because you’ll be staying in that for a bit yet, I’ve still got some sugar to taste.”


End file.
